


Don’t Be Good to Me

by Dexterous_Sinistrous



Series: Tumblr Prompt Requests [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Constipated Derek, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mild Language, Pining, Sexual Content, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/pseuds/Dexterous_Sinistrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Stiles and Derek have is very casual. It's so casual, Stiles doesn't even see his feelings for Derek sneaking up on him until he realizes that Derek isn't exclusive. He's forced to face reality as Derek remains as emotionally distant as possible. Stiles just really doesn't want Scott to say, "I told you so."</p><p>Prompt: "Sterek fiction. A & B are fuckbuddies. When A stops fucking around with someone else, B still like to get random guys home to fuck. A decides to stop the relationship with B. B says he doesn’t mind at all. A is really awkward and hurt everytime he meets B in pack meeting. One day they fight, and they have angry sex, which A still yells furiously to B while having sex but can’t help the pleasure. and in the end, I want an angst scene maybe like Kim jong kook Music Video - Don’t be good to me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don’t Be Good to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr to fill a prompt request ([x](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/post/128892532982/my-god-you-open-prompts-i-want-to-request)).
> 
> First of all, thank you, [ridiculounatic](http://ridiculounatic.tumblr.com/), for being so dedicated to my fics that you made an AO3 account. That is so lovely to hear and warms my heart.
> 
> Second … What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you do this to me? What have I ever done to you? You are torturing me with ANGST endings! I’ve only ever written happy ending Sterek … I am not to blame for the potential hope coming from their emotional constipation and fuckery. Incase you are interested in the English sub of Kim Jong Kook’s Don’t Be Good to Me ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWCIHRWuv_s)).
> 
> I originally planned for an ending angst scene like the music video, however this took a slightly different turn … there is angst, just like you asked, but I’ve been kind of sad for the past few days, and ultimately all my fics have been affected, therefore it has a hopeful ending through the ambiguity of the story. I really hope you enjoy this, even though it took a different route then I originally intended it to.

Stiles loved sex. He found it to be the most primal, easiest form of connecting with another human being. He never thought of it as something restricted for only those in loving relationships. He experimented with one-night stands, establishing a strict no strings attached. But that all changed when he went back home to Beacon Hills for the first time since leaving for college. And he blamed Derek Hale for all of it.

Stiles was screwed. Literally and figuratively.

Scott had warned Stiles more than once to not get involved with Derek. He spoke with Stiles the morning after, arguing with his best friend as he told him what happened the previous night.

“We both said it’s nothing serious,” Stiles almost sighed. “It’s a way to let off steam.”

“Stiles, you know with Derek it’s never that,” Scott replied in an exasperated tone.

“It’s not hurting anyone,” Stiles nearly snapped. Why couldn’t Scott see that he was happy to get laid by the hottest guy to ever grace Beacon Hills.

“You’re leaving to go back to college,” Scott commented.

“Exactly why it was sex and not a marriage proposal,” Stiles scoffed.

Scott let it go when neither Derek nor Stiles acted different during the next pack meeting. If anything, they were better than normal, neither of them snapping. They actually agreed on a few points, developing a plan with how to move forward with the local baddy of the week. It was enough to make Scott back off and let them deal with their own problems.

Stiles and Derek, however, never dealt with those problems. They just worked out their needs physically instead of verbally. That was how it all built until it finally blew up in their faces.

~*~

As much as Stiles prided himself in being independent, he just couldn’t stop himself from going back to the loft. Every time he found himself home, the minute he drove over the Beacon Hills’ line, he was headed straight for the loft—straight for Derek. He couldn’t stop himself from welcoming Derek’s advances. He loved the way their bodies automatically remembered where they left off, like old dance partners having briefly parted.

Stiles always felt a brief moment of shyness the minute his briefs slipped from his body. Derek always laid him out across his bed, like he couldn’t get enough of the way Stiles’ pale skin practically glowed against the dark sheets. It was one of the only reasons Stiles continued to pride himself on his ability to avoid sunlight like a vampire, most of his days on campus spent in the library.

Stiles constantly thought that sex with Derek would be too serious—too quiet. But it was the opposite. It was exactly them—small quips delivered back and forth, glances of longing, Stiles’ laughter countered with Derek’s scowls.

There were moments when Stiles thought it was more than just sex.

When he first complained about the lube being too cold, from then on Derek spent their foreplay rolling the tube of lube between his hands when they weren’t devoted to prepping Stiles. Or when Stiles asked about topping for a change and Derek actually agreed.

When Derek would whisper “baby” against his throat as he pounded him into the mattress. Stiles riding Derek until he was shifted into his beta form, claws marking Stiles’ hips as he threw his head back and practically howled. When Derek would grab his face and kiss him, a way to shut himself up as he chased his orgasm in Stiles’ body.

Stiles’ favorite times were when he outlasted Derek. It was rare, because of his werewolf stamina, but some nights, Derek would come before Stiles. The snaps of his hips were always bruising against Stiles’ ass, Derek grunting incoherent things before ultimately stilling and coming inside Stiles. He loved knowing that he was going to smell like Derek’s for the next few days—that both Derek and other supernatural creatures would know that Stiles was marked. He loved the feeling of Derek kissing his way down his body, mouthing at his nipples as he teased excited and desperate moans from him. Derek always would end it by sucking Stiles off, leaving him a shaking, mute mess as he tried to catch his breath.

It was moments like those that stole Stiles’ breath and made him feel as if he was riding a roller coaster when he thought about Derek. He was always excited to see Derek, to have him to himself. He felt as if he had been given a glimpse of who Derek really was. Derek let Stiles stay the nights, allowing him to curl up beside him. They would always take the advantage of lazy morning sex, trading small kisses with gasps of pleasure.

There were times when Stiles almost forgot that they weren’t a couple. When they would order dinner out, and Derek would pick the broccoli out of Stiles’ order because he knew Stiles hated the taste of it, but would make sure to give Stiles his cauliflower because he knew Stiles loved them. When Derek let Stiles take a picture of them one lazy Saturday morning, both of them graced with tousled bed hair as Stiles pressed into Derek’s side. When Derek would let Stiles push his cold toes under his thigh in order to warm them as they watched a movie while lounging on the couch. They looked and felt like a couple without actually admitting it.

It all came crashing down when Stiles showed up at the loft one night like normally, completely unannounced. It wasn’t unusual for Stiles to show up like this once he was back home, Derek often reading a book half-heartedly, already knowing Stiles was there before he reached the door. Derek always seemed glad to turn his attentions towards Stiles—Stiles would dare to say that Derek even smiled when he saw him.

Derek, however, didn’t smile this time.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek gruffly asked, running a hand through his already tousled hair.

“Funny,” Stiles partially smiled as he slipped under Derek’s arm to enter the loft. He was surprised when Derek grabbed him by the bicep, hauling him backwards, almost pushing him back out the door.

“I’m busy,” was the only explanation Derek offered.

“Since when are you too busy for—”

“What’s taking so long?” an unfamiliar female voice questioned. “Don’t tell me you can’t find the condoms.”

Stiles turned his attention back towards where the voice came from—the secluded corner of the loft where Derek’s bed was; the secluded corner Stiles intimately knew. He ignored the lump that formed in his throat, knowing he didn’t have a right to be jealous—to feel betrayed. It wasn’t like the condoms or that bed belonged to him. It wasn’t like Derek belonged to him. And he was the idiot that thought Derek answering the door with messy hair and hazardously pulled on sweatpants was just the attire of a normal Friday night for Derek; that Derek actually managed to open the door before Stiles knocked for once because he couldn’t wait to see him.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize—I’ll just—I wouldn’t have stopped if I … knew,” Stiles kept his head ducked as he spoke, quickly turning back around to slip by Derek once more.

“Stiles,” Derek sighed as he made a move to grab Stiles’ arm again.

Stiles was glad for once that he had a better control over his lanky limbs than most others thought. He easily avoided Derek’s grip, knowing that if he stayed a second longer and spoke about it, he’d be the idiot that ruined everything. He’d be the idiot that tried to make something out of nothing.

“It’s fine,” Stiles managed, already halfway to the elevator. He finally turned to look at Derek once he managed to shut the gate before hitting the down button. “I’ll see you at the pack meeting.”

Stiles ignored the way Derek let him go. He ignored the way his stomach clenched and his eyes burned. He couldn’t ignore, however, the fact that somewhere along the way, he went from having Derek Hale as a casual fuck buddy to falling helpless and hopeless in love with him.

Stiles reckoned that the moment he knew that he fell in love with Derek was a night a few months ago. He was staying the night after a round of mind-numbingly amazing sex, too out of it to drive back home. He was sleeping on his side, unsurprised to find Derek’s arms wrapped around him as he woke up to the faint sound of whimpers and even fainter feeling of trembling limbs. He shifted his body, turning to look at Derek.

Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed, his head shaking every now and again as if he was arguing with someone. His arms twitched, a small amount of fight in them as they struggled with his dream. Derek looked younger as he slept, almost like a helpless child.

Stiles knew Derek was having a nightmare, having had plenty himself that usually turned into night terrors. He reached up, placing delicate fingertips to Derek’s scrunched forehead. He easily massaged the tension away, waiting for Derek to calm. He slowly caressed him, cupping Derek’s face in his hands. He never dared to touch Derek as intimately as this unless they were in the middle of having sex. Every kiss and touch was reserved for strictly happening while they were having sex, never to happen outside of those moments. But Stiles stole this for himself.

That night wasn’t the last time Stiles wasted an hour he could be sleeping just to look at Derek. And it wasn’t the last night Stiles lost sleep because of Derek.

Pack meetings were strange now that Stiles forced himself to avoid all forms of contact with Derek. It had been almost two months since they had sex, and it was starting to show between their interactions, and change in scents. Scott was the first to catch on, scrunching his nose when he caught the scent of despair rolling off of Stiles.

“Please tell me what I said would happen _didn’t_ happened and now you two are awkward for another reason,” Scott whispered to Stiles as they took the elevator up to Derek’s loft.

“Leave it alone, Scott,” Stiles sighed, yanking the metal gate open.

“I can’t leave it alone, Stiles,” Scott answered. “You’re my best friend and he’s my Beta.”

“And we’re both adults, which means you don’t have to fix our problems,” Stiles snapped back as he reached for the loft’s door.

“Exactly, so fix your problems,” Scott stated loudly after Stiles had opened the loft door.

The entire pack meeting was strained, an awkward silence falling between their small conversations. Scott constantly looked between Derek and Stiles, watching them for a hint that something was going to happen. Stiles kept quiet, not uttering a word as Derek silently stood his broody ground with his arms crossed over his chest.

Stiles waited until everyone else left, remaining silent on the couch as he remained hyper aware of Derek.

“They’re gone,” Derek finally broke the silence.

Stiles released a pent up huff of annoyance as he shoved himself off of the couch. He turned to look at Derek, scowling as best he could.

“Did you stay to scowl or to fuck?” Derek bluntly replied in an aggravated tone.

“Suddenly you can pencil me in?” Stiles snapped back.

“Some time to kill,” Derek answered.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Stiles plainly stated as he unbuttoned his shirt, aggressively stripping the plaid garment from his body.

~*~

Stiles closed his fists around the sheets, his knuckles white as he struggled to not vocalize just how much Derek was affecting him. He pressed his forehead into the mattress as he tried to focus on anything besides Derek thrusting into him.

“You can fuck me harder than that,” Stiles snapped when Derek’s thrusts lightened in their pace. He was angry, and he wanted Derek to be just as angry. He wanted Derek to be rough—he wanted to be able to remember how it felt to spend a night with Derek Hale. He gasped in surprise when Derek slammed into him, causing him to fall to his elbows as his thrusts grew more demanding with every snap of his hips.

Stiles bit his lip, trying to stop himself from moaning. He ignored the way his tears burned his eyes, desperate to fall as he felt like his heart was breaking. He almost begged Derek to let him go when he felt arms wrap around his chest, holding him tightly against Derek’s own, broader chest. He tried to stay hidden by the mattress when Derek pulled his body upright, ripping Stiles’ grip from the bed sheets as he spread Stiles’ legs further apart to house his thighs. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning when Derek forced Stiles to practically sit in his lap, thrusting up into Stiles’ writhing body as he moved him.

Stiles dug his fingernails into Derek’s forearms, his teeth biting into his lip caused him to taste blood as he tried to hold out against the pleasure. He felt Derek’s claws scratching at his stomach, as well as Derek’s fangs scraping across Stiles’ shoulder blades. Ever since Derek realized that being a Beta again meant no danger of transferring the bite, he enjoyed being able to shift during sex with Stiles, being able to mark him up just how Stiles liked it. It didn’t help that Stiles was the one who asked if he wouldn’t mind shifting when having sex.

Something pulled in Stiles’ chest when he realized that he’d never be able to look at Derek’s shifted form the same way again. He’s never be able to see a werewolf in beta form without remember the feel of Derek’s claws and fangs against his skin; the surprising softness of his beard; the way his eyes actually sparked even in their blue form when he climaxed.

“Did you fuck her like this?” Stiles couldn’t stop himself from blurting it out, a pleasured gasp escaping his throat as one particular thrust pushed Derek deeper. “Did you fuck any of them like this?” He wanted to know—he wanted to hear Derek say that he couldn’t. Because no matter how fucked Derek was when it came to connecting emotionally, he never let a stranger know what he was—especially after Kate. Stiles was an exception because he figured it out on his own—Derek couldn’t stop Stiles from knowing, which meant he could have this with him. And Stiles wanted to hear Derek say he was the exception.

“Did you mark them?” Stiles continued when Derek refused to answer. “Or did you finally use the condoms we never bothered with?”

Stiles hated that Derek was silent, making it worse than if he would answer him. He closed his eyes as he waited for his climax to build to its burning point. He felt like his entire body was on fire as he reached a hand back to clutch at Derek’s hair, fingers burying deep in the short locks of his hair. He tugged hard enough to make Derek almost growl in response, spurring him on until his orgasm finally hit. He let himself cry out, allowing a few of his tears to drop under the guise of his orgasm. He clung to Derek as he continued his nearly brutal pace, waiting until he finally spilled inside him.

For the first time, Stiles wished he made Derek wear a condom, suddenly feeling sick from the foreign fluid being inside him. He let Derek pull out of him before he steadied himself against the mattress on his hands and knees. He was panting some as he tried to gain the strength to recover his clothes and run from the loft. He felt the bed dip under Derek’s weight, catching sight of the werewolf lying on his back in order to catch his breath as he covered his eyes with his arm. He quickly snatched his clothes from their pile on the floor, hurrying towards the bathroom without a single word.

Stiles took his time cleaning himself up before yanking on his clothes. He leaned against the sink as he examined his face in the mirror. He felt absolutely horrid, knowing he shouldn’t of thought this was for the best—that the pleasure was worth the indescribable heartache he knew he was going to feel. He looked down at his hands, the trembling in his limbs starting to subside as he focused on the small breaths he was taking.

Stiles was surprised to find Derek clothed, his back towards Stiles as he looked out of the loft’s giant window. He wasn’t sure how to say goodbye or even if he should say anything at all. He quickly moved to snatch up his sweatshirt from its place on the couch. He tightened his grip on the red material, his knuckles standing out as they drained white from the tension.

“I think you should go now,” Derek finally uttered, his voice was calm as he spoke.

“Yeah,” Stiles breathed. “Unforgettable last time,” he bitterly added as he started to turn towards the door. He paused, lingering as he hoped Derek would tell him to stop, that maybe he’d ask him to spend the night like he used to. He felt hopeful when he heard Derek shift his weight, almost allowing himself to believe that Derek was going to come after him.

“It was a fuck, Stiles, not a marriage proposal,” Derek’s voice cut through the silence of the loft, stabbing straight through Stiles’ chest.

Stiles released a bitter, self-loathing laugh as he shook his head, wiping a hand over his face as he tried to brush away his tears. “You’re a heartless son of a bitch, you know that?” He didn’t wait for Derek to answer, quickly fleeing from the loft as he ran for his Jeep. He was proud that he only had to pull over once to calm the constricting grip around his chest.

~*~

Stiles stared at the wall next to his bed as if it is the most interesting thing in existence—like it was the Mona Lisa and he’d been given all the time in the world to examine it up close. He ignored the sound of feet stopping just outside his door. He ignored the wounded sigh the owner of said ignored feet released. He even ignored the sound of his door opening and closing, and the weight of his bed dipping as the owner of said wounded sigh climbed into his bed.

Stiles couldn’t, however, ignore the comfort that immediately washed over him. He couldn’t ignore the way the weight beside him forced everything to hit him full force. He tried to curl in on himself, thinking that he could somehow make himself disappear by sheer force of will. He cried, sobbed, and screamed into his pillow. He let Scott wrap his arms around him, happily accepting his best friend as a cocoon to hide away from the world in.

Scott never said ‘I told you so’ or even mentioned Derek. He let Stiles grieve, he let him rant, cry, and yell. He sat beside Stiles as a comforting weight, and even lent his shoulder to cry on when necessary. After much arguing, he finally agreed to not confront Derek or tell the pack about what happened.

Before Stiles realized it, a year had passed since he spent a night with Derek. Derek had become nothing but a previous hook up—a distraction that both of them used to ignore real life. The pack never mentioned the sudden change in Derek and Stiles’ manners—both of them standing on other ends of the loft, exchanging harsh words that no longer reflected the playful banter they once shared.

Stiles dated. He dated both men and women, people he thought he could love and live a full life with. Every relationship lasted around a month before ultimately tumbling apart, and Scott was convinced Stiles liked it that way.

Scott managed to catch the way Derek’s eyes sometimes wandered over to Stiles. He watched the way Derek would allow his eyes to linger on Stiles when he thought no one was watching him. He ignored the way both Derek and Stiles avoided one another until Stiles kept a boyfriend for longer than three months.

Scott noticed the way Derek’s nose scrunched whenever Stiles walked into the loft, smelling like someone else entirely. He was happy for his friend, but couldn’t keep from feeling the unmistakable self-loathing and sorrow rolling off of Derek whenever they had a pack meeting. He waited until everyone else left, lying to Stiles and the others that he forgot something in the loft, before running back up the stairs.

“You didn’t forget anything,” Derek stated when Scott walked back into the loft.

“Perceptive,” Scott answered as he placed his hands in his jacket pockets. “What’s going on, Derek?”

“I don’t know—”

“Don’t start that ‘I’m a mystery’ crap’,” Scott sighed. “It’s old and I can tell you’re upset. I never said anything when it happened because Stiles asked me not to. But I’m saying something now.” He leveled Derek with a stern look before continuing. “Stiles is my best friend, and pack. You’re my Beta, and also pack. But I’m not going to risk Stiles’ happiness just because you’re sour about seeing him happy.”

Scott expected Derek to growl at him—bark at him to get out—or to even flash his eyes as a challenge. He wasn’t expecting Derek to release a small scoff followed by a self-satisfied huff of laughter. “Okay, I’m lost,” he honestly answered.

“I’m not sour that Stiles is happy,” Derek explained. “So you don’t have to worry about anything,” he quietly added as he turned his attention towards the window as he watched their pack members filing into their respected cars to leave.

Scott moved to stand by Derek, peering out of the window to see what he was looking at. He caught sight of Stiles on the phone outside his Jeep.

Stiles was pacing in circles, rubbing the back of his neck as he released a joyful laugh. He was smiling as he listened to the other person on the phone, excitedly nodding before realizing the person couldn’t see him.

Scott turned his head to look at Derek, furrowing his eyebrows as he started to put together all the pieces. He couldn’t believe what he was thinking, convinced that it was impossible and ultimately stupid of both Derek and Stiles. “You’re not mad that he’s happy …” Scott finally stated. “You’re mad that it’s not you.”

Derek’s normally pensive look cracked for a split second, a sorrowful look flashing across his features. “I imagine Stiles told you about what we did,” he started. “And I’m telling you the same thing I told Stiles, it was just sex.”

“For you or for him?” Scott asked. “Because you’d have to be an idiotic werewolf to not smell his attraction to you.”

“ _Attraction_ ,” Derek sternly stated. “Physical attraction is the easiest scent to pick up.”

“Do you honestly think Stiles acts the same way he does with you, with anyone else? I mean, not recently, but in the past,” Scott questioned. He stared at Derek in disbelief when the thought finally crossed his mind. “You love him.” He waited for Derek to challenge him—to correct his statement.

When Derek only stared out the window, watching Stiles end his phone call, Scott continued. “You love him, and you’re pushing him away.”

Silence fell between the two men as neither was willing to speak. Derek waited to break the silence until Stiles climbed into his Jeep, turning the engine on before speeding back towards town. “You should go home, Scott,” he softly answered as he turned from the window, moving to head towards his bed.

Scott watched Derek for a few seconds before shaking his head, turning to exit the loft. He caught sight of Derek’s phone resting on the coffee table as he moved to walk by it. He turned to look at Derek, confidently snatching the device before triumphantly exiting the loft.

~*~

Derek was practically tearing the loft apart in search for his cell phone, releasing an aggravated growl when he was convinced he searched everywhere. He sensed the person running up the stairs and towards the loft. Their scent burned his nostrils with its familiarity—with its comfort. He quietly cursed when the human started to bang their hand against the loft door.

“I know you’re in there, Derek!” Stiles shouted through the door. “Now open up before I shoot your little werewolf ass full of wolfsbane.”

Derek yanked the door to the loft open, ready to yell at Stiles. He was not expecting to be face to face with an enraged Stiles. “What—” he took a deep brath to calm himself before finally asking, “What are you doing here, Stiles?”

“What am I doing here?” Stiles incredulously asked. “I’m here, because I want to know just how long _this_ has been your phone’s background picture!” He held up Derek’s previous lost phone, putting the background photo on display.

It was the photo Stiles had taken with Derek’s phone the morning they stayed in together. Derek was on his stomach, one arm clutching his pillow, the other clutching Stiles as he practically tucked him under his chest. His face was nuzzled into the side of Stiles’ neck as Stiles smiled up at the camera, his own head turned towards Derek as his lips ghosted just over his forehead.

Derek had made light of the fact that he supposedly deleted the photo, keeping his phone away from Stiles and the pack. Stiles was convinced he had crossed a line, upsetting Derek more than anything.

“Where the hell did you get my phone?” Derek demanded, ignore the photo glaring at him.

“That’s what you have to say?” Stiles asked in disbelief. “Scott gave it to me, he said something about you being an emotional idiot followed by him lecturing me about how he was right.”

 _I’m going to kill my Alpha_ , Derek internally grumbled. _Again_.

“You both broke into my phone—”

“Danny unlocked it,” Stiles snapped as he shoved the phone into Derek’s chest. “Apparently he’s a romantic, and once he saw the picture he left it unlocked for Scott to show me it.”

Derek quickly pocketed his phone before crossing his arms in a defensive manner.

“Are you going to tell me why you lied about the picture? Why it’s the background on your phone?” Stiles hopefully asked, forcing his hands into his pockets as he tried to keep his limbs from jittering.

“I …” Derek turned to keep his gaze from Stiles. “I think you should go home, Stiles,” he weakly stated in a quiet tone.

Stiles took a moment before taking a deep breath. “I get it,” he stated as he nodded his head in affirmation. “You don’t think you can be—deserve to be loved after everything that’s happened,” he paused as he cleared his throat. “All I wanted was a chance, and I thought you’d never see me as anything more than a fuck buddy. So, I leapt at the chance to be with you like that. But I wanted more—I deserve to want more.

“You just can’t let yourself be happy, can you?” Stiles continued. “I wanted to be with you, Derek. Not just like how we were but like—” he took a deep breath as he blinked back his tears, his stomach flipping and churning as he fought to finally say what he always wanted to. “I wanted to be there for you. I wanted you to let me love you,” he sobbed as he turned away from Derek, running a hand over his face. “Forget it. Just—forget it.” He turned to run back towards the steps, not bothering with the elevator as he fled just as fast as he had stormed his way up there.

~*~

Scott was surprised at the next pack meeting when Derek and Stiles were still avoiding each other, sharing as little personal space as possible. He also was annoyed with how quickly Stiles’ happy mood had changed once again to being lonely and miserable to be around. He pulled Stiles off to the side in order to talk to him.

“What happened?” Scott quickly asked. “I thought you and Derek were going to talk—”

“Don’t, Scott,” Stiles almost snapped. “I tried, but he’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“Wait,” Scott paused as he stole a quick look at Derek. “He never said why that photo was his background photo?”

Stiles reluctantly shook his head.

“I’m so tired of your emotional constipation,” Scott practically barked.

“Me?” Stiles asked, his features twisting into an insulted look.

“Both of you,” Scott answered. “You fucked each other instead of developing a relationship, and in the process, ignored your feelings.”

“Scott,” Derek interrupted them as he took a few steps closer to them, his eyebrows furrowing in a scowl. “Leave it alone.”

“You’re both leaving it alone enough for the world,” Scott answered. “Whatever it is, sort it out. Actually _talk_ to one another.” He stood up, making his way over to Kira and the others. “For once, talk to each other,” he announced as he gestured to the others to leave.

Stiles remained silent as he leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes slowly wandering over to Derek as he waited for him to react. He gnawed at his lip, his fingers drumming against the counter.

“You should probably head home,” Derek finally broke the silence, remaining stubborn in his determination to ignore the conversation they were meant to have.

“I take it all back,” Stiles released in an exasperated sigh. “It’s not that you don’t think you deserve to be loved—you’re just an asshole.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Stiles,” Derek replied.

“God, Derek,” Stiles huffed as he pushed himself off of the counter. “Why can’t you talk about this? Why can’t you just have a conversation with me?”

“What do you want me to say, Stiles?” Derek barked. “Do you want me to tell you that I’m lonely? Make all your dreams come true by suddenly being the cliché love interest who shoves the heroine away when he really wants to pull her close?” He released a small, bitter laugh. “That’s not how the real world works, Stiles.”

“I’m not asking for a promise ring, asshole,” Stiles snapped. “I have no delusions that I meant _anything_ to you. Hell, I don’t think anyone means anything to you, because you’re so closed off you can’t feel anymore.” He clenched his hands tight, turning to look away from Derek as he released a rough breath.

“I felt something for you,” Derek suddenly stated, catching Stiles off guard.

“What?” Stiles demanded, his eyes fixed on Derek.

“I said I felt something,” Derek stated louder. “I felt something because you planted yourself in my life. I didn’t like what it implied.”

Stiles turned away from Derek, his eyes scanning the loft in search of something with meaning. He needed something to tell him his entire relationship with Derek meant something. His eyes caught the book Derek had been reading for the past week, constantly stashing it away whenever Stiles or any pack member entered the loft. He looked at Derek, waiting for him to say something, before he marched over past the bed to stand next to the nightstand.

The book was surprisingly heavy in Stiles’ hands. He furrowed his eyebrows as his fingertips ran along the edges of the pages. He flipped through the pages until the book fell open to Derek’s page. He picked up the strip of photos Derek was using as a bookmark.

It was about a month after they started sleeping together, when Stiles finally convinced Derek to go to the traveling carnival. He pilled Derek into the photo booth as Derek complained that it wouldn’t matter, his eye flare would ruin the photos.

Stiles pulled at the corners of Derek’s lips to force him to smile, his eyes turning to focus on Stiles instead of the camera. Stiles continued to make faces or cover Derek’s eyes, forcing him to not blind the photos. The second to last photo was when Stiles kissed Derek, causing his eyebrows to arch incredibly as his eyes widened. The last photo was of Derek pressing his face into the hollow of Stiles’ neck.

“You kept it,” Stiles weakly stated.

“I collect and preserve memories, Stiles,” Derek explained. “I don’t really plan on long term.”

“So I was just another memory to keep?” Stiles asked.

“You’re what I wanted and what I told myself I couldn’t have,” Derek explained.

“Well, I want you,” Stiles admitted as he tossed the book back onto the nightstand behind him. “And I want to be it—the only person you see. And I want it all, Derek. I want a relationship that isn’t going to end with you getting scared about being emotionally attached for once. I don’t want you going to other people to try and convince yourself you don’t care about me.”

“Don’t,” Derek dangerously warned him. “Don’t come in here and sprout some unrealistic bullshit about us being together. Because every time I make the choice, it ends with me used and tossed away.”

“You’re not choosing this time, Derek,” Stiles stated as he moved forward to stand in front of Derek. “I am. And _I’m_ choosing _you_.”

“So I don’t have a choice?” Derek practically laughed at how accurate that described his life.

“No,” Stiles stated. “You have the _option_ to accept or deny me.”

Derek’s eyes scanned Stiles face as he watched him for a sign that it was a trick. He never saw the lie with Kate. He didn’t want to believe the truth with Jennifer. But he felt the raw emotion pouring from Stiles in waves as he stood in front of him, _asking_ Derek to accept him. He took a steady breath before nodding.

“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on tumblr:
> 
> [drunklightning](http://drunklightning.tumblr.com) is my blog where I reblog anything I find of interest.
> 
> [dexterous-sinistrous](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com) is suited towards my ramblings about my writing, and NSFW. (It's where I serenade myself about Sterek). It's my trashcan of emotions. Feel free to stop by and say hi, criticize me, make incoherent noises with me, whatevs.
> 
> [Send](http://dexterous-sinistrous.tumblr.com/ask) me any prompts you think you'd like to have me write!


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